


Hiver Déjà senti

by SayakaMaizono



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayakaMaizono/pseuds/SayakaMaizono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“sayaka the trendy hipster barista who works at starbucks. and then theres leon who works at subway. do u see where im going with this?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiver Déjà senti

I have lived half of my life in a tomb that smelled of baked good and coffee beans.

Every day when I woke up, the mocha and the pastries would waft through my nose like an uninvited wake up call. Every day when I went to work I’d smell the coffee being purchased by some pretentious hipster who can’t seem to keep his order down to under ten syllables. And every night before I would go to bed, somebody would be brewing up a hot pot of the stuff somewhere else in my building. And I’d smell it. 

When I die I swear to God that I’m going to be buried and every mourning person at the funeral will have a hot cup of coffee in their hands and I’m going to smell it as I die.

It wasn’t that bad half the time. I like coffee. I took it with two sugars. I liked the bitter taste. Mostly the reason I didn’t like the smell of it was because it triggered memories. When I was little and had been really good, my father would give me a sip of his coffee in the mornings. When I got older, I’d make my own coffee because my father wasn’t there to give me his anymore. It also reminded me of the three pitiful years I’ve spent working in a coffee shop to pay off my college debts.

There wasn’t always a downside to it. Believe it or not, working at Starbucks had advantages. You’d meet a ton of people; see them go in and out and further with their lives while you stood behind the counter. And I was okay with that for the most part.

Leon Kuwata was another issue altogether.

\---  
I had dreams too (although, now that I think about it, most girls with daddy issues dreamed of grandeur). When I was younger, and for many years afterword, I wanted to be a star. I wanted the light of fame to cast its light glow upon me. There was nothing else I wanted more in the world than to be loved. 

That didn't take me very far. Majoring in theater wasn't one of my better decisions, I don't think. And there I was, serving mochas at Starbucks, as my dreams began to drift away as if I had just woken up from a deep slumber. There wasn't more I could do at the moment.

The first time Leon Kuwata asked me on a date, I was almost positive he was joking. I wasn't an unattractive girl-- I had inherited my mother's large blue eyes and tiny waist-- but most men don't give the barista girl a second glance. He was tall and muscular, with a scruffy face and grey eyes that seemed full of life. His flamed red hair was spiky-- I couldn't imagine how many paychecks he had spent on hair gel. I assumed that his color came from a bottle, but that didn't exactly explain how his long goatee also shared the fiery color of his mane. I assumed it was great dedication. He would always have metal poking out of his face in a form of a nose or ear piercing; I was never sure how he got a job.

This job, in question, was working at the Subway across the street from the tiny Starbucks where I was employed. His shift started at 8:30, so I would always see him coming in at 7:00 every morning. He took his coffee black, like me, and he sat at the counter across from me and looked out the window at the early morning traffic. It rained a lot here, and I would often stare at his dreamlike expression reflected through the rain pattered windows.

The first time he talked to me was on a brisk September morning, when the rain from the night before was still dripping quietly off the roofs of the town. At first, it was normal-- he just ordered his coffee, and I told him I'd get it to him in a second.

For a moment, he stood there, as if he was analyzing me. I burned as I felt those grey eyes looking at me. I tried to ignore it, and make his coffee, but he spoke again after a second. "Your name is Sayaka, right?" His voice was cocky and quick, and he put a bit of emphasis on my name. "You've been working here a while now, haven't you?"

"A year." I took good care not to fumble over my words, speaking them crisply and articulately. He leaned against the counter, and looked away from me. I finished his coffee quickly, and handed it to him. Leon gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher, and sauntered away with it.

We didn't speak again for a whole other month. I didn't actually see him again until I visited Subway on a lunch break. I paid little mind to the cashier as I handed him my money, but his voice immediately captured me.

"Sayaka." His voice hadn't changed at all-- it still had that cocky, pretentious hint to it that made my skin crawl. I pretended not to notice. "That will be five dollars, then. I'll keep in mind you like footlongs."

To this day for the life of me I still have no idea if that was an innuendo or not.

Another month passed, and the November air brought light snowfalls that would stain the streets in white. Business increased, as it usually did at that time, and yet I had yet again to see that redheaded boy.

It was late one night that I finally glimpsed him again. I was working a later shift than I usually did, and the cool snow had turned to sludge on the roads. 

But then there he was-- an explosion of red against the monotonous greys and whites of the winter, a flame of spring here to thaw out the ice.

He came straight up to me, and seemed almost relieved. "Sayaka." His voice was firm, but it still had a twinge of that arrogance I detested so much. But his joyful grey eyes showed something else-- a hint of determination. "Would...you come with me for a second?"

Now, I think you understand where I was coming from when I said it sounded like he was kidding. This guy whom I had only spoken to once or twice and then seemed to disappear completely off the radar walks in on a rainy night and asks me to go someone with him. It sounds like an opening line to a joke, doesn't it?

"I...excuse me?" I flicked my eyes towards the other customers sitting in the shop, but they seemed not to pay any mind to what Leon was saying. His content face broke into a cocky grin, and put out his hand to me. 

"Please? C'mon? Whose it gonna hurt?" Before I could respond, he had already untied my apron and hat, and thrown them at the counter top. "C'mon. There's something important I want to show you." 

It was all a blur after that. I remember how the night air hit me full on and how I could see Leon's breath as he laughed. I remembered the streetlights and the stars all intermingling into one, bright light. I remember the powdery snow still attempting to cling to the muddy ground, and the way that the moon illuminated the winter scene to me.

What I remember most was the absurdity of it all. Getting snatched out of your everyday life by a boy who works at Subway seemed to be something that happened in romcom movies and adult fiction novels. Leon's voice had begun to lose its arrogant tone, and he whispered to me gently through the night as he led me through the small park on the other side of town. 

"You need to be quiet now...it's important." He took my hand in his. Leon's hands were bigger than mine, and they were warm. For some reason, I felt like my hands fit perfectly into his. I felt like they were meant to be there all along. He pulled me ahead with him, staying silent as the winter winds rushed around us.  
We walked for a few minutes in silence before he stopped and dropped my hand. I look up expectantly at him, but his grey eyes didn't wander from what he was looking at. I strained my eyes to look in the same direction.

He walked a few steps forward, his feet making squelching noises against the muddy ground. I followed suit, keeping my eyes on whatever large metal object was buried just below the surface of the ground for all to see. His breathing began to get deeper, and I noticed.

I approached the sign. It seemed old-- older than anything else in the park. Its sides were completely rusted over, and it was hard to make out the words since they were covered with dirt and snow. What it said though, still haunts me now, and for reasons I do not know.

It said "Hope's Peak Academy."  
\-----  
I never saw Leon again. It's been two years since that night, and nobody seems to recall the flame headed boy who worked at Subway and came in every morning at 7:00. 

I still haven't forgotten the words on that sign-- the "Hope's Peak Academy". I didn't know what it was, or what it meant, or why it was so important to me. I still can't shake the feeling that it meant something, at some point.


End file.
